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Summary
Jimin hasn’t been this bad in a while.
It was a combination of things, really, that lead to the fall. It always is.
Yoongi's deep inside of him, forcing his back to arch.
"So pretty, Jimin-ah," he groans, hands skimming down Jimin’s body.
The praise doesn't set him on fire the way it normally does, the coil in his abdomen feels less like arousal and more like some sort of dread. A dead weight. He screws his eyes shut.
"So pretty for me, baby," Yoongi whispers right into his ear.
Jimin doesn’t believe it for a second.